


Better Living

by Ceares



Category: Entourage
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Presumed Dead, Trope Bingo Amnesty, character death -- sort of, genre clichés, set amorphously during season 3 part 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceares/pseuds/Ceares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am dead, E. My heart doesn't beat anymore. I shouldn't be here. Not just LA. I shouldn't be anywhere. So what do you say, want to watch the sunrise with me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Living

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd and under the wire for amnesty. I found the beginnings of this and it fit a square, so I said, hey, I can squeeze out 500 words.

The media feeds on the headlines for weeks. _Aquaman star tragically killed in ocean plane crash!_ Eric supposes it’s a mark of how generally liked Vince was that even TMZ resists making some dumb fucking joke.

The memorial service had been a circus, and they still have the funeral in New York, but he just has to hang on until after. Eric tells himself that a hundred times a day, while he makes arrangements and accepts condolences, while he keeps Johnny and Turtle together and functioning. While he watches Ari sit stoically, teeth clenched so hard it makes _Eric’s_ head hurt. Just hang on until after. After he can fall apart, quietly, privately. After he can start trying to figure out how to live the rest of his life without Vince.

He can’t stay at the house. Drama and Turtle have been crashing at a friends and he’s in a hotel. He finds himself passing the turn off though and he’s parked in the driveway before he knows it. Eric sits in the car for a long time. He needs to pick up some more things anyway though and it doesn’t make sense to leave only to turn around and come back tomorrow. He steels himself and gets out of the car. It’s dark when he walks in. The cleaning service comes twice a week so the place is clean and Eric is relieved he won’t see Vince’s jacket slung over the back of the chair or his kicks under the table.

He sure as hell doesn’t expect to see Vince himself sitting in a chair by the window in his room. He thinks he’s seeing a ghost and considers it took him longer than he thought to finally lose it.

“Hey, E.”

He doesn’t know if it’s Vince’s voice in the silence or the sheepish grin that accompanies it that lets him know this is real. “What the fuck! Vince? Are you... everybody thinks you’re dead.”

Vince nods. “I know.”

Eric comes out of the daze he was in, heart beating so fast it feels like a purr. He takes a step toward Vince then stops, afraid if he touches him he’ll start crying and won’t stop. “Oh my God! I have to call Johnny and your Ma, and Ari.”

“No, wait! You can’t. Something happened.” 

“What?” It’s not a question as much as it is a statement of disbelief that any of this is happening to him. He’s never been one of those people that mixes up the fantasy of Hollywood with reality but he feels like he’s stepped into some kind of black comedy. That feeling increases when Vince responds.

“You remember Lorelei, right?”

“Your co-star in Into the Night?”

Vince nods, then opens his mouth, lips sliding into a grimace that reveals sharp, sharp teeth. Non-human teeth. “I am dead, E. Or well, I have to be that way to everybody.

Eric stares. He should be afraid probably, if this isn’t some elaborate prank Vince is pulling, some fucking Punk’d mega special or something. If it is, Vince really is going to be dead. “Are you telling me that the co-star in your vampire movie was a real vampire, and she bit you?”

Vince shrugs with a sheepish grin. "She said it was method acting."

"So you let her suck your blood."

"Um, I thought just a hickey, by the time I realized what was going on it was too late."

"So you're really..."

"Yep."

“I need a drink.”

 

 

Vince is explaining earnestly, and Eric is asking the right questions with a part of his mind, while the other part is calculating just how much all the therapy he’s going to need will cost.

“They’ve got a house somewhere. You stay five years there and then you can’t go back to any place you lived for another fifty. It used to be twenty but it was easier for them,” he hesitated and grimaced, “us.” Vince made a gesture with his hand. “You know, before cell phones and the net.”

“What is it, like some kind of witness protection for the undead?”

Vince shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

He took another swallow of his drink. He should have gotten a bigger glass, or just grabbed the whole damn bottle. “Should I be looking for the Slayer to show up here looking for you or something?”

“It’s not exactly hunters they’re worried about. Can you imagine what people would do if they knew there was something that let them stay young forever?”

Eric can make a list of people bigger than the damn mansion that would happily slit the throat of a puppy in front a screaming child for that chance.

“What are you doing here anyway? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I talked Pete, he’s my, trainer I guess, I talked him into letting me come here, just to say goodbye. They checked and they know you and the guys aren’t staying here, so he thought it would be okay. He’s a big believer in closure. I was hoping you’d come back after the service. How was it?”

Eric looks at him incredulously. “It was fucking nightmare, how do you think it was? Your mother is devastated and Drama is a mess.”

Vince flashes him his biggest puppy eyes. “I’m sorry.” It’s not quite as effective with the red glow.

“Oh fuck you for not being able to keep in your pants, Vince!” Eric does go back to get the bottle. Vince is sitting with his head down and shoulder’s hunched when he comes back into the room. “And fuck you for making me a part of this!”

That pulls his head up, the red flashing. “So what? You wish you thought I was dead too?”

“Why not? Why am I any different?”

“You just are. You always have been, you know that, E.” Vince glances away, eyes roaming around the room. “I’m too famous. Big fucking joke, right E? A couple of years ago nobody would have given a fuck if I disappeared off the face of the earth -- nobody except you guys and Ma. But now I’m too famous. They were arguing about it. Some of them just wanted to get rid of me and some of them wanted to stick me underground for the full fifty years.”

“Jesus! Who the fuck are these douches?”

Vince shrugs again. “It’s about survival. They’re pissed at Lorelei and she took off somewhere, so now they’re stuck with me. The whole time though, all I kept thinking was ‘if E was here, it would be okay’.”

“I can’t fix this, Vince.”

Vince shakes his head, frustration flashing on his face “No, I know. That’s not...”

Eric doesn't blink, he swears he doesn't, but Vince isn’t across the room anymore between one heartbeat and the next. He’s standing right in front of Eric. The red glow is steady now, but his eyes are wide and scared and their _his_. Eric’s never been able to pull himself out of Vince’s orbit, no matter what he wanted to pretend and that hasn’t changed, even if Vince has. It’s why he doesn’t move when Vince leans in and doesn’t flinch when Vince’s mouth is on his and the edge of a tooth slices open Eric’s lip. The wash of metallic and salt hits him and then Vince’s tongue is moving over the cut, a moan flooding out of him.

Eric groans helplessly as Vince sucks on the cut, pain and arousal flood him, mingling until he pulls back with a gasp. Vince is ethereal in the moonlight streaming in from the window. Not just his eyes now, but his whole body seems to glow. Eric understands why Lorelai would want to make sure he looked like this forever. Eric’s blood is a red smear across his mouth and he licks at it, hungry eyes dropping to Eric’s swollen lip. Eric steps back, bumps the table with a thud. Vince blinks and wipes a hand across his mouth, looking at the blood residue with a grimace. He shakes his head and steps out on the balcony, leans against the railing and stares down at the pool. He doesn’t look at Eric when he follows him.

“I wanted that for a long time.”

Eric has too maybe. “Well you’ve got bad fucking timing.”

Vince laughs and there’s a bitter edge to it. "The Council is right. I can't stay here."

"I know."

"I shouldn't have come at all. I just...maybe I _should_ let them stuff me in a box for fifty years or so, that way at least I won't be tempted to come back here looking for you guys. “He sighs "Or maybe their first instinct was right."

"What do you mean?"

"I am dead, E. My heart doesn't beat anymore. I shouldn't be here. Not just LA. I shouldn't be anywhere. So what do you say, want to watch the sunrise with me?"

Eric stares at him, and then shakes his head, looking back out over the trees. "You know, even after thirty years, I can't tell sometimes if you're being an asshole, and manipulating me, or being a fucking asshole, and you're serious. Either way stop it."

He does look over at Eric then, grin rueful. “Gonna tell me what to do one last time?”

Eric doesn’t flinch though he wants to. He doesn’t know if it was worse two hours ago, thinking Vince was dead or now, knowing he’s not, but that Eric still has to let him go. “Yeah. Go back and do everything they tell you. You’re great at taking direction, Vince and for now this is just another role you need to learn.”

Vince nods. “Will you meet me, E? In five years, will you?”

Eric doesn’t say in five years, Vince won’t be Vince or that Eric will be five years older and he won’t. “Jesus Christ you asshole, when do I ever say no to you?” When Vince smiles, he doesn’t say, that’s not a yes.


End file.
